ber of students, whether in connection or not with colleges and halls, and also to diminish the relative disadvantages which now attach within colleges and halls to students of comparatively limited pecuniary means. 3. The establishment of such rules with regard to fellowships, and to the enjoyment of other college endowments, as might wholly abolish or greatly modify the restrictions which now, in many cases, attach to those fellowships and endowments, and might subject the acquisition of such fellowships and endowments generally to the effective influence of competition. 4. The establishment of such regulations with regard to fellowships thus to be acquired by merit as should prevent them from degenerating into sinecures, and especially the enactment of a provision that after fellowships should have been held for such a time as may be thought reasonable as rewards for early exertion and distinction, they should either be relinquished, or should only continue to be held on condition of residence coupled with a discharge of active duty in discipline or tuition, or with the earnest prosecution of private study. 5. And, lastly, the establishment of provisions under which colleges possessed of means either particularly ample or now only partially applied to the purposes of education or learning, might, in conformity with the views which founders have often indicated, render some portion of their property available for the general purposes of the university beyond as well as within the college walls, and might thus facilitate the energetic prosecution of some branches of study, the importance of which the university have of late distinctly and specially acknowledged."

These are ends which would involve, it is admitted, the necessity of provision being made for a careful adjustment of the existing college statutes, and for the abolition and modification of certain oaths now periodically administered in some of the colleges-things which have too long been the excuse for the stagnation and the abuse with which both Oxford and Cambridge have been so justly reproached. "There are other changes," Lord Palmerston adds, "tending to the increased efficiency and extent of study which would naturally accompany or follow those to which I have adverted; but what I have stated may be enough to explain the general expectations which Her Majesty's Government have been led to form under the influence of their sincere desire to acknowledge the services and respect the dignity and due independence of these noble institutions, and to see their power and influence enlarged to the full measure of the capabilities indicated by their splendid endowments." So that there is now, it is evident, an earnest of reform. The case, as it now stands, will remind the

universities, no doubt, of the fable of the Lark and the Farmer, wherein the bird sees the necessity of setting her nest in order when the owner himself of the crop, in the midst of which she has hatched her brood, proceeds to arrange for its immediate in-gathering; and there is little doubt that they will likewise take warning in time.

What England wants, and what she has a right to expect, is the adaptation of her Universities to the enlarged requirements of the age-its greater enlightenment, and more general diffusion of education. They are not, it is true, national institutions, as though they had been founded and endowed, and were supported by the nation. But they are, nevertheless, intended for the nation's advantage, under the peculiar, yet perhaps legitimate, restrictions which they involve, as the foundations and endowments of private charity and munificence; and the people of England have a direct interest in seeing that the intention is carried out in all its fullness and integrity. English gentlemen, English tradesmen, aye, and English mechanics too-for there is not only "ample space and verge enough" for all these, but express provision made for the poorest and the humblest of them-are entitled to have security for the proper education of their sons in those venerable institutions-for their highest instruction, their most careful training, their utmost accomplishment, as highly educated men and rightminded Christian gentlemen. No antiquated but now useless forms, no inappropriate prescription, no effete and impracticable theory, no overweening attachment to conventional terms or usages, no self-indulgent dalliance with the empty ornaments. of learning, no prejudice and partiality for mere classical associations, must any longer be allowed to stand in the way of the substantial attainments of a university career. There must be security, too, that pleasure, and its too usual consequence, extravagance, will not be suffered to continue to interfere with the great business of a college life. Men send their sons to universities to study, not to play; and, though due relaxation may be indispensable, it need never degenerate into dissipation. The precept of Fuller, "Choose such pleasures as recreate much, and cost little," applies with peculiar force to the case of universities; and the Heads of Houses of Oxford and Cambridge, we can not but think, have much to answer for, that they should have allowed so sound a maxim to have been so completely reversed under their immediate governance,

POPULAR AMUSEMENTS.-THEATRES IN NEWYORK.

THE Greeks were accustomed to represent their heroes, many of them, struggling with some great adversity inflicted by their divinities; some themselves myths, embodying matchless traits of humanity. Their women, if vicious, were impelled by some terrible necessity; if virtuous, were elevated in character above earthly imperfections. Their creations were personations rather than characters. They inhaled-they lived in the atmosphere of art. Their ideals were marks, that needed no foil to display their great outlines.

Of all the dramatic schools, none reflects the spirit of its time with more breadth and force than the Greek. The Roman was too much influenced by the age which preceded it. The French dwelt much in the past, amidst scriptural scenes, Egyptian and Grecian story, and was too much imbued with a species of sentiment which borders on, if it do not become one with sentimentalism. Goethe in his Faust, successfully brought down the princes of the powers of the air to a more tangible shape than they had hitherto assumed in the transcendentalists' brain, and in so doing, not only pictured the mysticism of Germany, but has also shown that a sensible Englishman may believe in all that a German believes, though with this difference, that while the former obeys the dictates of sense, in determining to leave those things alone which he knows to be above his present power of comprehension, the latter is for ever battling with pigmies invested by his own conceit with the grim shapes of Titans and Hippogriffs, Giants, and Centaurs.

The school next the Greek in originality is emphatically the English. Ben Jonson, with his courtezans and rabble; Beaumont and Fletcher, following in his train; Congreve, with his desperate wit and indecent tongue; Shakspeare, the many-sided, the incomparable, with his Hamlets and Mirandas, his ghosts and fairies, statesmen and clowns-of whom, with more truth, than of almost any other writer it may be said, the sum of man considered as an embodiment of all that is human, is contained in his writings.

While the German affects to join the mortal with the immortal, he never trespasses beyond the boundaries of the earth. His ghosts only affect our mortal fears; his Puck and Peas Blossom; his Caliban and Oberon, are only such creations as the fertile fancy of man may range among. If he people the air, it is such air as we inhabit. If he portray monsters, they are

such perversions as men are capable of; if innocence and virtue, constancy and fidelity, they are actual existences among us. The realism with which Lord Bacon's splendid page is every where illumined, is the key to the English mind; and this is as truthfully reflected in Shakspeare as the sunset clouds in a placid lake on a summer evening. Dickens, as a novelist, represents the humanity of his time, while he lacks the broad nature requisite in a great dramatist. Shakspeare was equal to his great task, because he could divest himself of self. His persecutor, afterward Justice Shallow, was simply an object of buffoonery; whereas in Dickens, while the lowly are adorned with appropriate dignity, the high in place are often the objects of injustice.

But as we forbear comparing the incomparable, and as there is little new to be said in his praise, has it occurred to no one that he was imbued with, and every where imparts, aristocratic sentiments?

In what way? it may be asked, as the term is employed in so many different significations; sometimes as having relation to individuals, sometimes to governments; not to mention its sometimes being employed where exclusiveness, narrowness, or superciliousness is meant.

All, doubtless, remember how much is accredited to royal birth in the instance of Guiderius and Arviragus. In the play of Julius Cæsar it is the people who are fickle, and in Richard the Third it is the eye of the king that "lightens forth controling majesty." A faith might have been reposed in the master spirits of the time, without reference to aristocracies or democracies. But the ermine and the purple are actually invested with sanctity. Ah! does not one suspect that the bard toyed with the pomps of courts and vanities of queens as the mere playthings of his more regal fancies?

Where else are rebels so supremely ridiculous as when headed by the infamous Cade? Where else has ignorance. received a more malicious stroke than where it would have the citizen branded with ignominy because "he knows grammar?" When we reflect upon these, and the tide of disdain that is poured through the imperious nature of Coriolanus, his contempt for the "greasy citizens," the aristocrat is so painted to the life, we are fain to say, as Goethe said of De Roos' sheep, It is so done as almost to make one wish to be a sheep, or at least fancy the author himself must have been one.

On the contrary, it be may said that he was true to nature in the thought that individuals may be relied on as noble, as objects of our reverence, while the masses are more subject to vacillations. The hope of a country is ever in a few. One true

man, in any country, is enough to save it. In this both the many and the few are commended-the few for their devotedness to principle, the many for that honesty and nobility of nature, that faith in, and reliance on, their integrity, which form the only durable superstructure of democracies. Such sentiments, it may be said, are conveyed by the great dramatist, abating the necessary qualifications imposed in part by the authority, in part by the customs of his time.

We do not see in his writings that faith which is peculiarly republican. To settle for once the question how far faith can be reposed in the masses, would be to determine how far democratic elements should enter into any form of government, since we can hardly believe that a little more or less learning would, in any great degree, affect this question.

With a brief remark on the Greek drama, as adapted to our times, we shall proceed more directly with the subject which heads our paper. Though so noble an entertainment as the Greek drama would afford, commanding such intellectual influences, it is in no way adapted to the present age; though the modern drama might judiciously introduce the chorus which relieved their characters from all common-place, by telling their story, thus leaving them, unincumbered by detail, to express their majestic sentiments. Besides, the different movements introduced by their epode, strophe, and antistrophe had an imposing musical effect, which would be highly pleasing to the modern mind, and might be skilfully introduced.

First, with regard to popular entertainments, the people will have them. The few give character and tone to a particular class, but the great masses have too much of the free man to be governed by their patronage. No where is the national feeling to be read more truthfully than in their public spectacles.* With these kings have cajoled the people, and democracies strengthened their interests. Tyrants have dared to awe the nobles with their frowns, while through these they flattered the whims of the people. The history of the Grecian games is a landmark in the history of Grecian development. To the grand spectacles with which Napoleon III. knew so well to enchant the French more than to his decrees is owed the present rule of France.

*To confine ourselves to modern times, let us compare together the races in London, the bull-fights in Madrid, the former spectacles in Paris, the gondola contests at Venice, the baiting-matches at Vienna, and the gay, attractive life of the Corso at Rome, and it will not be difficult to portray the different shades of taste of these various nations. In the mean time, far less uniformity is manifest in the common sports of these different countries, than among the sports of the more polished classes in the same countries, for which we can easily account.